A Short Poem

[Pepito]

My Angel

My dear sweet one, how may I begin to tell what I truly think of when I think of you? I will start with your hair, so raven black, and smooth as silk. A true delight to merely see, and even more glorious to feel. And beneath the hair of a goddess rests the face of pure innocence. Eyes shinning like the stars themselves, a nose perfectly sized and placed, lips that should they even brush another would send the greatest delight through the receivers body. The body that belongs to the face of the angel is just as glorious. Perfectly shaped, correctly rounded and curved, the envy of all women who lay eyes upon it. The skin of this angel is smooth, smooth as polished porcelain, yet warm to the touch. A welcoming feeling to all who happen to be given the wondrous opportunity to feel the pure texture. And beneath all this outward beauty, beneath the alluring angel’s piercing, yet comforting gaze, lies the mind of genius. So honed and sharpened as to practically never be caught unaware. When the divine person that is yourself speaks, people silence themselves to listen, treating every spoken word as if it were pure gold. The soft-spoken voice that belongs to you makes it only more tempting to never part your company, afraid that if one should travel to far, they may never hear you again. And to many, that would be an absolute curse. Your absolute perfection radiates an aura around you that is unmistakable, you are favored by God himself. You are an angle on earth, so sweet and kind as to put most to shame. How is it that I am able to know you, much less speak to you. These are the thoughts that pass through my head when I think of you, please do not look upon me with anger, or reproach, I only write what everyone thinks.

[Pepito]

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